


Take a Break

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dreamswap (Undertale), Blue is shady, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-10-27 18:57:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20765336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Blue is shady and makes pancakes.





	1. Dream is workaholic

**Author's Note:**

> Hamilton reference intended.

It has been an especially long day at work for Dream today. It’s been extra busy all week actually. The cases Justice Reigns has had recently had been pelting paperworks at him, and it looks like he’ll have to pull the third all-nighter in a row tonight. Silently, he makes a cup of extra-strong coffee and maneuvered towards his desk with the aforementioned paperwork in hand. Nightmare’s antics had been quite a headache this week. As per usual, Ink handled some of the harder-to-crack criminals on a few of his solo missions; Dream went on a few trips, both with a group and on his own, to eradicate the alarmingly increasing number of cults rising up in the multiverse; the “Meme Squad” broke into the JR headquarters on various occasions, saving him from various boring meetings with some hysterically thick-headed patrons of the foundation, which he was thankful for, although it was less than likely for Dream to ever admit that out loud. As much as he loved and believed in his work, the stress was taking a toll on him.

Oh, and of course, there was-

“Busy much, angel boy?” Dream doesn’t bother looking behind him. The perpetrator’s breath feathers his neck, his smooth, cocky voice lowered to a purr.

“Blue.” It was becoming a common occurrence tofind the skeleton lounging in his office. So much so that Dream barely had any trouble by now to keep his voice passive, cooly letting the name slide off his tongue as if it were just another one of those idiot patrons’, ready to be dismissed. “I would presume you would not be willing to enlighten me as to how you managed to break into my personal quarters.” The papers fall neatly onto the desk with a faint thud. “For the forth time this week.”

JR had been checking and double checking the surveillance tapes, heightening the security for some evasive threat none other than the CEO himself had seen. It was stirring up a bit of controversy within the organization. Rumors questioning the sanity of their leader.

“Aww…” Dream felt Blue’s fingertips graze over his arm. The criminal’s voice went up an octave, coated in such a thick layer of feigned innocence that Dream had to suppress a gag. “I just wanted to see how my old friend was doing is all! There was some information going around, y’know? I would’ve thought that you wanted to know about it.”

A mockingly patient sigh on Dream’s part. “I already’ve told you: I don’t make deals with criminals.”

“You work would go much faster with my help.”

“I don’t need your help.” Dream crosses his arms. A hint of mirth seeps into the other skeleton’s voice at his almost childlike display of stubbornness.

“I’m hurt, Dream! I really thought we meant something!” Blue spreads himself across the back of the office chair, putting the back of his hand to his forehead in an exaggerated gesture. Behind the facade, Dream could feel the Blue’s constant string of anxiety. It was uncanny how well the skeleton was able to disguise it and operate like he does, almost enough to make Dream doubt his own abilities to correctly sense emotions.

“Go away, I am not in the mood to deal with you today.” Shrugging off the hand on his arm, he sat down into his office chair, which he definitely did not spin around in when he was alone.

Dream stopped responding to Blue’s attempts at conversation. Looking for his second favorite fountain pen, he furrows his brow bones. He explicitly remembers putting it on his desk after finishing the paperwork yesterday… The same thing happened with his favorite too. This sleep deprivation mustn’t be doing much for his memory; he keeps losing small things like paperweights and pens, and it was getting kind of annoying. He could take Ink’s advice and go on a short vacation… No. The company needed him. There was no way Dream would willingly abandon his work. He settled upon finding one of those cheap, plain ballpoint pens. That would work. Initial after initial flew onto the papers, the occasional comment appearing here or there on a document, pointing out mistakes or inconsistencies etc. that could have serious consequences if left unresolved. Some people just never learn. Dammit Jerry.

After a while, the intruder quieted down, getting bored from the lack of response he received from Dream, whom had given up on trying to call Ink and arrest Blue on the 247th try. Dream let out a sigh, finally relaxing when he was sure he was alone, and took a hearty swig of his long-cold coffee.

Once again picking up his fountain pen, the skeleton went back to work, trying not to let his thoughts linger on unpleasant thoughts as they started surfacing in the late hour. Nighttime reminded him of Nightmare, among some other things. It was getting increasingly difficult to focus on his work the longer the night went on. The coffee didn’t seem to be working properly. Maybe the exhaustion from the previous nights had finally caught up with him. Before long, Dream found himself tipping over, unable to summon the willpower to stay awake any longer. He gave into the unyielding darkness.


	2. Blue is a shady flirt and Dream is confused but enjoying pancakes so everything's okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive the mistakes and crappy organization.

“Ugh…”

Dream squinted his eyes open, letting them focus in the bright sunlight bathing the room. The hazy yellow glow soon shifts into recognizable shapes and coherent forms.The CEO yawns. He had definitely slept wrong last night.

Lifting his head up despite the protests in his limbs. He had to get up. There was an urgent meeting this morning and half of the wealthiest sponsors of JR’s endeavors would be there. There was no way Dream was missing his work today.

“Good afternoon, angel boy.” Dream shot up. He looks down to find that he was wrapped burrito style in a pile of blankets in a medium-sized bed. One that was not his own. He casts his gaze towards the source of the intrusion to find none other than Blue. Dream’s train of thought temporarily freezes, attempting to process the information presented. It was like the gears almost constantly running in his head had suddenly been halted by some irrelevant piece of junk, carelessly tossed into the working mechanics that was his mind. The resounding of laughter snaps him out of it, allowing his senses to register his surroundings once more.

“Blue?” Possibilities run wild in his mind, most of which were dispensed without a second thought, seeing how ridiculous they were. Dream didn’t get a chance to truly explore any of the options before he felt his hands being placed around a warm mug of what appeared to be tea. Unable to comprehend this turn of events, he resists the urge to gape like a goldfish, keeping his expression placate. “Where am I?”

“In my house, of course.”

“May I ask why?”

“You may.” Blue sips on his tea.

“…”

“You’re not actually going to answer.”

“No.”

“Can I go back to my office?” Dream asks, already knowing the answer. Blue chuckles, shaking his head. Keeping his expression of mild curiosity, Dream lets his eyes meander over his new environment and discreetly reaching into his pocket, trying to keep from panicking when he couldn’t find his emergency alarm on him. Blue must’ve taken it. He narrows his eyes at the shorter skeleton.

“How did you kidnap me?” Dream reviews the previous night’s events in his head, meticulously examining every detail in his impeccable memory, inwardly facepalming at his own stupidity. “You drugged my coffee didn’t you?” He makes a mental note to keep a closer eye on his food around Blue.

“You figured it outpretty quick, huh?” The skeleton sits down at the foot of the bed. “It’s worryingly easy to trick you when you’re consciously making an effort to ignore me.” He glances up from his mug, almost lazily making eye-contact without breaking a sweat. “Haven’t you been missing some things?” The pieces clicked into place in Dream’s head.

“So you’re the reason my fountain pens are gone?” Dream asks a bit too pleasantly with a slight tilt of his skull. “That would explain a lot of things.” Ignoring caution and common sense, the Dream takes a sip of the lukewarm beverage he was provided, maintaining eye-contact with Blue over the rim of the mug. One: He refuses to be intimidated by the likes of Blue; two: He was dehydrated, okay? Plus, it was implausible for Blue to drug him again, seeing as how Dream was pretty much at his mercy right now.

Blue broke into laughter.

“What?” Dream furrows his brow bones, eyeing the giggling skeleton in suspicion. “What is wrong with you?” Blue puts a hand to his mouth in an attempt to stifle the near-hysteric hiccuping. Shaking his head, he glances once more at Dream’s face before turning away and putting a hand on the wall to steady himself.

Wheeze. “Oh it’s-“ Wheeze. “-nothing. Just,” Blue wipes a tear from his eye, looking back at Dream. “You looked ridiculous making that passive-aggressive-slightly-threatening face and drinking from this mug. I think this is the most unrefined state I’ve ever seen you in!” He gestures towards where Dream was sitting up on his bed, clothes in various states of crumpled disarray, holding a mug with a unicorn smiley face on it. The skeleton in question offers no retort, scowling condescendingly at the childish accusation, only succeeding in sending Blue into hysterical giggles yet again.

Dream rolls his eyelights, wishing that he could go back and get his work done. There were still charities he hasn’t reviewed yet! A lot of them! And Blue had the gall to just stand there and laugh. All the starving children he could’ve helped at this point… There was something stopping him from making portals. That damned Blueberry had too many shady ways to get what he wanted. Well, this could be an opportunity to learn Blue’s motives and maybe even capture him… Surely, missing a few finance meetings would be worth the arrest of a long-wanted criminal that regularly breaks into the headquarters of the most influential organization in the multiverse? Or was that just Dream being lazy? Either way, it can’t turn out that badly to try. Right? Right. He would just start with a simple question.

“Why did you kidnap me? Why now?” Blue could very well have done the same thing on so many occasions it was a cause for concern. And yet he chose this exact day to strike. There was nothing remarkable about this date as far as Dream could recall, and Dream had pretty good memory. What’s threw him off even more was that he wasn’t kept in a cage or restrained in any way, not counting the loss of his portals multiverses jumping magic thingy.

Blue shrugs, as if it were the most irrelevant question he could’ve asked. The shorter skeleton exits the room, pausing at the doorway and his half turning his head.

“I suggest you come with if you want breakfast.” It seems that Dream doesn’t really have a choice in the matter, not that he was particularly worried. If Blue wanted to poison him, he would’ve done it already. The skeleton might have an unclear objective, but it serves nobody any good to be hungry while investigating. Blue’s been treating Dream fairly well so far, if you exclude the kidnapping part. Taking care to straighten his clothing, as anyone with the least bit of dignity would do in this situation, Dream follows Blue into what looks to be a neat little kitchen.

“Ink is taking care of whatever meeting you were supposed to be at today. He’s sorting through the papers and other boring legal stuff,” Blue addresses Dream, not looking up from the pan he’s now taken out and put onto the stove. “Either that, or he blackmailed some poor chap and threatened torture and death to ensure quality paperwork sorting or something. Were you aware of Ink’s ability to forge your signature?”

The shorter skeleton pours himself another cup of tea, raising the pot in an offer to Dream, taking a seat at the counter, who allows his mug to be filled.

“Yes, I am aware.” Dream saw no point in changing his signature. If Ink wanted something, he would find a way to get it. Blue holds an easy-going stance, leaning slightly on the other side of the countertop. Only now does Dream realize how much mental strain the endless paperworks and legalities of the JR organization put on him. Ink was trustworthy and surprisingly capable in fields you wouldn’t have expected him to excel in. Being here, not having to obsess over every detail in order to maintain his life’s work and uphold his formidable reputation, was nice. He let out an uncharacteristically relaxed sigh, in front of a wanted criminal no less. It was as if a chord latching onto his soul was suddenly slackened. Blue seems to sense this change. He turns around to flip the pancakes Dream could now see he was making.

They sit there in a comfortable silence, Dream sipping on his tea and watching Blue as his hands expertly filled two plates with perfectly cooked pancakes, every single one sporting that wonderfully mouth-watering golden-brown color. Blue lifts theflawless towers of buttery goodness, sliding a plate over the counter to Dream.

“So,” Blue winks. “Come here often?”

Dream couldn’t help but burst into laughter, reduced to a giggling teenager with the power of a cliche pickup line. He hadn’t laughed like this in a while had he?

“You know,” The shorter skeleton takes a takes a nice long sip of his tea, sighing contently. “You look a lot cuter when you laugh.”

Dream chokes on the aforementioned laughter, trying to play it off as clearing his throat. And failing epically.

Blue pats him on his back, chuckling at this display. Dream wheezes, only doubling over in laughter again when he recovers from his coughing fit. Blue joins in. They chortle and snort, laughing harder whenever they slow down enough to catch glimpses of each others’ faces. Eventually, Dream manages holds himself upright with the counter.

“This is so ironic,” Dream shakes his head, unable to stop smiling despite his throbbing cheek-bones. “You sneak into my office almost every day, stealing small objets like paperweights and then suddenly deciding one day to drug and kidnap the CEO of the biggest criminal eradication organization, who almost caught you on numerous occasions, so you can make him pancakes and flirt.” He waves his arms like a dancing iguana in an attempt vocalize his thoughts, all senses of self-respect forgotten. “You’re risking the position of your home and your personal safety to just…Play around? Why?”

”You looked like you could’ve used a break.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Honestly, Dream wouldn’t put it past Blue. He wasn’t one who would wait when he wanted something. He could’ve just felt like playing with Dream. Blue could’ve just found their positions intriguing and had the spare time to explore this unique relationship. In any case, it wasn’t too bad. The pancakes were on point.


	3. Ink's an asshole and Nightmare kidnapps him and I really have no author's craft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So the summary is in the title?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the middle of the night. I felt meemeey ish and I had just finished playing DDLC and I think I'm a sociopath so I wrote this. Logics. It's in Ink's perspective by the way, if that weren't obvious enough. He's like the only character that thinks this sarcastically. Or maybe I'm just extra salty today. Who knows?

Whistling as he strode down the sunlit halls, Ink reached for the handle of his improvised torture basement. Dream wasn’t here to stop him from making one, and he saw no reason to give up such a golden opportunity. Swallowing some of his vials, he opened the door to reveal an anxious team of hard-working, hyper-achieving employees sitting on the floor in a cold, dark, (well made, in Ink’s opinion), dungeon. A drop of water runs down a crevice in the walls, landing on the polished metal surface of a chainsaw. The employees blink at the light From the doorway. Crossing his arms, he raises an (imaginary) eyebrow at them. A braver (and probably dumber) one stands up to look him in the eyes, trying to stop his voice from shaking.

“W-we finished all the paperwork you assigned, sir.”

Ink smiles benevolently, shifting to make passage to the door he just came through. The only exit. He jerks his shin towards it.

“Then get the fuck out of my face.”

The prisoners seem, understandably, hesitant. The tall guy previously whimpering in the far corner makes a dash for it, the others follow suite. Ink loved the effect he had on people. And he didn’t even have to use any of the gizmos in this room. Shame, he would’ve enjoyed that. But, today, his enjoyment wasn’t top priority. He just needed to get the paperwork done, and he learnt that blackmail was the most efficient answer. He couldn’t have their best employees too traumatized though; one, because Dream would not be happy with him; two, because he may have use for their abilities in the future.

The (fake) moldy desks he provided his elite team with were stacked with carefully reviewed documents. Ink randomly picks a few stapled packets to check for mistakes. When he finds none, the piles were unceremoniously dropped into his subspace.

He spares one last glance at his beloved new torture basement, sighing internally at the thought of having to relinquish it when his boss gets back. Ink had quickly grown attached to the room and its many purposes. Well, he could always remake it and hide it somewhere else. As much as Ink loved smelling the fresh desperation that lingered in the air, the assassin had to go after his next target. Not that he didn’t enjoy his job.

The intruder alarm blares.

For fucks sake. Of course. The Meme Squad.

It was the third fucking time this week. And this was only the third day of the week. Perhaps Nightmare’s little gang really had too much spare time on their hands. Well, this just gives Ink more opportunities to catch them. Guess his mark will just have to wait. It was getting frustrating how often the Meme Squad would escape from JR’s forces by barely a hair’s width.

Ink moves fluidly, traveling through familiar corridors in the most direct route to the intruders’ entry point, sneaking noiselessly through the halls and silently cursing the senseless ban of portals and teleportation in JR headquarters. He hears shouting in the distance with a few tranquilizer gunshots as its accompanist.

Footfalls sound against the tile flooring, turning the corner and almost running smack into Ink. Cross staggers back upon seeing the skeleton. He froze on the spot, eyelights darting in search of an exit. Ink summons his brush, dashing towards his new target and just barely missing a swing as Cross stumbled out of the way. A staff parried his following attack. Nightmare.

More, heavier, footsteps headed in their direction. The criminals panicked. Their eyelights met in some silent agreement. Before Ink could react, they rushed him from both sides, Nightmare wielding his staff and Cross his knife. Ink bares his teeth, twisting his brush and landing a direct hit on Nightmare’s back, using the momentum to propel himself under the incoming blade. He grabs he flat side and shoves it in the direction it was swinging, forcing Cross to flip last second in mid-air. Flawless plan. Flawless execution. Nightmare hits the ground. Cross makes a face.

“That looks painful.”

“Shut up, Cross.”

Holding tight to his weapon, Nightmare used the time Ink took to balance himself to get up and run to Cross’s side. Tons of fighting occurs… Mostly just Ink being super smart and fast and OP while the other two goes with whatever their guts tell them and pulling risky stunts. Neither side can really afford to try and process what’s happening what with their weapons at each other’s throats… Yeah this would not be a good time to get distracted. Eventually, Ink sees Nightmare and Cross share some super-duper-secret signal and Cross dashes off, leaving the fighting duo in the dust.

With only one opponent to face, Ink snarls, committing to more and more offensive maneuvers. He was feeling extra violent today. Gotta get that energy out somehow.

Nightmare gradually starts tiring, unable to match the stamina of a being that cannot be halted by such mortal things as discomfort or exertion. The short skeleton makes the memiest shit-I-done-fucked-up face his skull could allow. Ink has to give him kudos for staying true to the team name. It doesn’t stop him from socking the comical expression off of the living memelord’s face though, earning a subsequent outdated Pewdiepie “Whaat” as the victim’s face proceeded to hit the ground for the second time that day. Big oof for Nightmare’s pretty face.

Then, from somewhere far off in the distance but approaching quickly, Nightmare’s inadvertent call for help was answered:

“YOU’VE NEVER GOTTEN HIT IN THE FACE BY A MAGICAL SLEDGEHAMMER?!

…

YOU KNOW IT HURTS, RIGHT?”

Ink found out that it did hurt. A lot.

He may not be bothered by discomfort or pain most of the time without the corresponding emotions, but that, astonishingly, did not exempt him from blacking out after being hit in the face by giant fucking magical sledgehammer. That’s not how it works, apparently.

―――

When Ink came to, it was in a dark torture basement cellar. He, of all people, should be able to tell the difference between a normal wine cellar and a dark torture basement cellar. This was a dark torture basement cellar. And he, the captive, was excessively chained to a chair. This was great. No, no this was absolutely marvelous, as anyone would be able to tell, for Ink. He would never go a day without going through his healthy relaxation time strapped to a chair. With chains. In a dark torture basement cellar.

He was abruptly pulled from his, ahem, genuine, appreciative thoughts that definitely weren’t about making Nightmare’s face hit the ground again by the hand grabbing his jacket collar quite aggressively. He found the Guardian of Negative Emotions spitting words in his face with a fist pulled back, ready to launch.

“What the fuck did you do to Dream and why the fuck was he in a bodybag this morning and who the fuck did you give that bodybag to?”

Okay. Fitting attitude for an environment such as this. Ink did not panic in these situations. He was literally unable to, and it was pretty helpful. There can be a few perks to being soulless. And Ink intended to use them to their full potential. He assesses the predicament he’s in. The Meme Squad had the bottom lines of one, trying not to kill people, and two, not being stupid enough to eliminate their only viable source of information. Both of which applies perfectly to these specific conditions. That, my friends, would mean that Ink is not in any immediate danger. Which, in turn, would mean that Ink could afford to bullshit with his sarcasm and piss Nightmare off even further like the sadistic little dipshit he is.

“Which question would you have me answer first?” He nonchalantly STARES INTO NIGHTMARE’S METAPHORICAL FRIKKIN SOUL with a smirk on his face. Ink was reveling in the power he held over Nightmare with his words even as he was bound to a chair in a dark basement torture cellar.

This’ll be fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reviewed it I swear... It was technically still a whole paragraph I edited okay? This is a fricking fanfic site; did you expect well-written novels?


	4. Unsatisfactory ending to this short fic thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lololol pancakes and Ink swearing a bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not wasting even more of my life editing this so take the shiitiest shit you're here anyways.

Those pancakes really were good. Dream missed them already.

“Wow,” Blue smirks at the cleanly scraped plate Dream sits in front of. “How long has it been since you’ve had a proper, homemade, meal?”

Dream was adequate in many fields. He was able to come to quick, effective decisions under extreme pressure. He could reach solutions in half the time it takes the majority of the multiverse. Yet this simple question had him tongue-tied. Dream could not answer. Now that he thought about it, this was pretty unhealthy wasn’t it?

Blue doesn’t seem surprised.

“Do you just live off of caffeine?”

Dream simpers, sheepishly sticking his tongue out. How comical it is to see the Frisk’s trademark Neutrally Unimpressed Face on Blue’s skull.

“I’ll admit it is a prominent component of my diet.”

“…” Blue sighs.

“You want some more real food?” Nooooooo… He was too full, twenty pancakes was more than enough.

“Yes please.”

You know, maybe Dream would do this more often. Just maybe.

―――――――――――――

“So you’re saying that you let Blueberry the motherfucking maniac take Dream away in a motherfucking bodybag because you weren’t taking care of my brother well enough and he was overworking himself like the motherfucking workaholic he is.”

“Yeah motherfucker.” This was the tenth fucking time Nightmare had rephrased this. He had some colorful language Ink could respect, but it was getting a bit old.

“Why am I not surprised.” 

Ink’s rubbed his wrists where they were just bound. And his neck. Which was fucking sore because of the fucking position he was unconscious in. He raises his middle finger at Nightmare in a tribute to the Starlord. This was so fun. Hopefully, JR is still functioning. If not, well, Ink would need to get it back to working order before Dream comes home. Force some employees to get it back to working order before Dream comes home. Hey, isn't that what bosses are supposed to do anyways?

“Wait, didn’t Error already make up with Blue?” Ink narrows his eyes, throwing a sideways glance at the skeleton in question, putting a hand on his hip.

“Yes, I did,” Error gives him a disapproving gaze. He crosses his arms. “Doesn’t mean he’s not a maniac. He still does some shady business.”

Ink had only been able to get them to let him free by telling the entire tale. They seemed skeptical. Until Ink had told them about this not-so-secret crush Blue had had on Dream. Error had nodded, apparently agreeing that it seemed like something Blue would do. Cross had started surfing the internet for dank memes in the corner of the basement. Nightmare seemed dead-set on breaking into Blue’s house and hauling Dream out over his shoulder like some powerless potato sack. Ink had somehow managed to convinced them that he had no reason to lie. Error had even texted Blue, who had confirmed that, no, they were not sucking face, yes, he was feeding Dream decent food, and yes, Dream got to sleep in blah blah.

Ink didn’t really understand how the twins’ sibling relationship even worked. On one hand, Dream was always trying to jail Nightmare and his gang, and Nightmare was breaking into JR to annoy Dream in a fashion not unlike that of an annoying little five-year-old living with an older sibling. On the other hand, they couldn’t live without each other, literally and figuratively. It was really weird. Ink just went with it. Right now, though, he had an overdue target to eliminate.

“Hey, so can I go now that you know your brother’s not fucking sucking face with your friend’s friend?” Ink didn’t get why Nightmare was so worked up about this. It was funny, seeing the “overprotective older brother” side coming out like this. Well, to be fair, Blue wasn’t the first person to gain Nightmare’s trust. He was fucking shady as all the fucks Ink doesn’t give. That’s a lot of fucks.

“You know what?” Nightmare seemed beyond annoyed. “We’re keeping you prisoner and leveraging you and shit. That’s what you get for locking us up all the time.”

“And brutally wiping the floor with both you and Cross’ asses? While you ganged up on him?”

“Shut up Error.”

**Author's Note:**

> There's probably lots of typos and choppy sentences in this, but you're the one who clicked into this random story on a site for fanfics literally anyone with internet and an email can write on, SO TAKE MY SHIT.


End file.
